Silhouettes
by Burning Moon of the Sky
Summary: In a dying world, a sorceress and her apprentice, in a last burst of desperation, bring four people to the world to help save it. It seems like a fairly cliché task, bringing down an evil queen and all that, but something's different about this adventure. The catch? Their voices are now their weapons, and if the world dies they go down with it.
1. Voice of Fear

**Silhouettes**

**Prologue: Voice of Fear**

Even though it was warm, like on a hot summer's day, the sun wasn't shining like it generally would be. Wind howled outside the castle windows in a rage, rattling the weak glass using the trees surrounding the building as they shook with the wind, spindly branches attacking the castle walls mercilessly. Rather than a regularly-seen sky blue, the sky above was a cold grey, like the stone that housed the tyrant girl who was close to ordering an execution.

She was sitting at her throne, legs thrown over the left arm casually, with an aura of malice and cruelty rather than the innocent, pure-hearted royalty everyone would expect. Her face was young, almost too young to be a ruler, and her expression conveyed no real emotion, only a sick smile that shook everyone in the room to the core. Her long black hair was neatly tied up in a bun, with some loose strands of hair escaping the tie and framing her face as her piercing, ice-blue eyes stared down at the woman who was standing before her defiantly.

"What do you wish for me to hear?" she drawled, sounding bored. The woman glared at her, and if looks could kill, the girl would have dropped dead on the spot.

"Your Majesty," the woman pleaded. "My family – the only ones I have – they have no food nor water, we are going hungry and we have no money, for none of us have any jobs. Please, _please _can we pay our taxes next month, along with next month's tax? My brother – he – " The expression on the brown-haired woman's face was filled with hatred towards the lady she was addressing, but her voice cracked at the mention of her sibling. "-he's dying. Please –"

"No." The girl on the throne tilted her head slightly, her face full of mock horror. "You haven't paid tax, and then there must be a price to pay instead of with money. Your brother will die. End of story. You hear me? End of story."

There was a cold silence hanging over the court as the girl finished her terrible proclamation. The woman stared at the smirking girl in disbelief before stepping forward close enough as she could, as close as she dared, then spat at the floor close to the throne. "We'd be much better off in this world without people like you, especially if they rule," she hissed, her warm brown eyes blazing. "The Divas and the Rockers and all of them, all of the Singers, they will bring you down, every last piece of flesh that makes your being and then you will be gone from our world forever. I pray for that day to come, _bitch_." She spat again with finality, nearly an inch away from the girl's dangling feet.

The girl shrieked with fury and jumped up from her lounging on the throne, pointing one small, carefully painted nail towards the older woman. "You insolent fool! How dare you speak to me in such a way, the _queen! _Guards, take her and throw her in a cell! She is to be executed tomorrow at dawn, and then annihilate her whole _precious _family, including her _dear, sweet brother_," she ordered, her voice taking on the sickly-sweet tone of a manipulative child towards the end. The woman's eyes widened, and then, with a scream of anger and sorrow, leapt towards the girl's throat with no avail; the guards situated close by already had her arms behind her back and forced her to the floor.

She fought with wild abandon; with a strength that didn't exist in a normal person; a strength that the woman had no idea she possessed, her fears for her family and rage at the girl giving her the strength she wanted and needed. In the end, a blow from one of the guards to the head subdued her, and she gave up, head slumped, arms still flailing weakly, legs attempting to kick out, her entire being exhausted and defeated under the physical and mental pressure of being outnumbered.

"Take her away. Now." The icy-eyed girl had watched the entire struggle disinterestedly, and gave the final order once it had ended, once she was satisfied that her victim wasn't going to try anymore. Many of the servants had looked away, sickened and horrified by the scene. The fatigued, battered woman was dragged away, her head bowed in submission, her tears rolling down her pale cheeks and hitting the floor with insignificant splashes, distorting the patterns on the tiles in the water.

The princess looked around at the motionless, terrified staff. "Well? What are you looking at? Clean that stuff up! _Now, before you get thrown in with her!"_

They all snapped into action at once, afraid of suffering her wrath and wanting the remnants of the heartbreaking scene wiped from existence. They hurried around under her watchful eyes, wiping the floor of water and some blood, making it as spotless as it had been before, as if the scuffle never happened. Soon enough, everything was clear, and the servants and maids had all returned to their appropriate posts, wanting to get away from the room and the now irritated queen.

Tentatively, her personal servant approached her, his own green eyes the only ones that were full of calm, rather than fear. "My lady, you have the address to the land to carry out in a few minutes. Would my lady wish to be changed? I can arrange for a dress to be brought down at once."

She shook her head, the small crown on her head bouncing around the bun. "I shall stay as I am, Allen. Thank you." Her affection for the boy who was always close to her side was obvious, she treated him like close family. They were very close, and Allen Richardson was the only person she had ever truly smiled at and with. It was common knowledge to the staff of the castle that she loved his cooking, and almost treated him like a younger brother.

He extended his hand towards her, smiling broadly. "Then we shall be going, my lady." Her black-gloved hand slipped neatly into his white-gloved one of his own, and he escorted her to the balcony, higher up in the castle towers, where it was mainly used to give addresses to the country, and where she would make her speech. Allen was smart enough to know not to mention the previous disaster, but she brought it up anyway in a saddened, wearied tone. She stopped as they walked, and Allen paused too, turning to his mistress in concern. "My lady?"

"I'm so tired of this, Allen," she sighed. "The whole country is terribly pathetic, and I know everything is going wrong, but it's not my fault! Everyone is coming to me with their problems, and I don't know how to work it out! I can't solve everything! I'm only fifteen years old! I _want _to save this world, and I _want _to make everything better, but I _don't know how to do it!_"

He laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder gently. "Being the queen has a lot of responsibility attached to it, my lady," Allen told her quietly, his eyes serious as he looked into her panicked ones. "Maybe when you solve one problem, you can take that knowledge and carry it on to help you solve the next. Sure, the world is falling apart, but with patience and logic, everything will be okay in the end."

His idea calmed her down, and she smiled at him gratefully. "Thank you, Allen."

He led her to the balcony, and as she stepped into the warm air, the whole country was waiting. It was unnaturally silent for a queen's address, and the atmosphere was tense and fearful. Once stepping into the dark aura again, she felt scared, and angry, just like before. No one was willing to accept her because she wasn't like the queen before her. She felt a sharp pang of emotional pain at her heart as she encountered the country that she knew hated her.

Allen, behind her, was close to tell the country himself to give her a chance, to relax and let her become settled so she could balance everything that had suddenly been thrust onto her. But instead, he let her do what she wanted, like he was supposed to do. She turned back to him, and he merely shrugged. _You can do what you want_.

She looked down at the people again, meeting their fearful, poisoned feelings with her own frightened, distorted mind. She felt like screaming. There was nothing she could do, and she knew it. The way she had acted for the last few months had formed the peoples' concept of her into solid stone, and she hated them for it, hated them for judging her when she was so young and inexperienced.

_They will pay,_ she thought venomously, wishing that she could just control them with her mind, make them relax and let her settle.

Elluka Lucifenia spread her arms to the people and the sky, her gloves slipping slightly further down her arm, and giggled. It was childish, but loud enough and high enough for the country to hear. It pierced the sky, the space, and the peoples' minds without any problems whatsoever. Her musical voice possessed every person there, and they reluctantly did her bidding, because they knew they had no choice.

"Now, bow to me!"


	2. Dreams

**I : Dreams**

Adam Stevens shot up in bed, sweat lining his forehead and edges of his slightly feminine face. The princess-queen in his dream was all too real for his liking, and her voice – her childish, deadly voice – still echoed, laughing, in his head. He shuddered. Her immature tones as she ordered the death of a woman and her family, who were much older than her, were not going to be easy to forget for a while. Swinging out of bed, he looked at the worn clock on his bedside table and groaned. It was half past five in the morning. He wasn't due at work until eight, so his plans were intending on a lie-in.

_Now that I'm up, I might as well make myself a coffee, _he thought grudgingly while throwing on his dark red dressing gown.

Groggily, he dragged his feet across the carpeted floor to shuffle from his bedroom to the kitchen across the hall. He lived in a comfortable, plain flat by himself in central London, which was all he needed to write his articles. He was happy there – anything was better than living in the slums, if he had to go back he'd be alone this time.

Hitting the switch on the kettle violently as he passed it, he retrieved his favourite _Star Wars _mug from the cupboard, along with the sugar and instant coffee packet from the shelf above. The fridge was opened with the hand which wasn't carrying the mug, sugar pot and coffee, milk taken from the fridge and the door kicked shut. He dropped everything on the kitchen top surface in relief and stretched his arms, yawning.

The kettle was still boiling excruciatingly slowly, so he paced around his flat for a minute before glancing at the previous day's newspaper, discarded on the table. Another rush of pride swept through him when he saw his name on the front page, 'written and edited by Adam Stevens, editor'. It had been a long while before he had made the front page with his own article, accompanied by endless sleepless nights and weeks of gathering information from so many different sources – books, the Internet, people – it was ridiculous.

He walked through the hallway to go and collect the post he had failed to pick up the day before – he had dragged himself in from work and collapsed onto the bed without noticing the envelopes on the floor. He went down the stairs to the front door, picked up the lonely, dusty post and started to shuffle through them as he retreated back upstairs. He hardly bothered to even read what was on the front, knowing what they were just from the handwriting. Bills, more bills, a letter from his mother (who was currently on holiday in Spain despite her old age), adverts and others he couldn't be bothered with.

Ripping the unwanted adverts and other letters – including his mother's one – and throwing the remains into the bin, he heard the squeal of the kettle as it finished boiling. Adam picked up the vibrating kettle and poured the hot water into the mug, watching his coffee begin to take form. Humming to himself, he finished making the coffee with three spoons of sugar and a dash of milk, took the coffee to the sofa, then, putting the mug on the floor first, threw himself onto the sofa.

He would have turned on the TV, but knowing nothing would be on at the ridiculous hour of the morning, he settled for staring at the blank screen and replaying his dream in his head and onto the screen, while sipping his coffee thoughtfully.

_The place itself_, he decided, _didn't look like a place existing on Earth, despite all of the castles and crappy weather in most places. The people looked human enough, the same as me and other guys and girls._ _But there was just an inhuman quality about it… like it isn't as real as it wants me to think… maybe there's something on it on the Internet…_

He jumped up, downed his coffee in one and ran towards his bedroom to get changed. It was half past six now, he hadn't realised how quickly time had gone while he was immersed in his thoughts.

However, he made the fatal mistake of letting his bare foot slip past the top step, making him trip – and fall down the stairs as a result. In a desperate attempt to stop himself from falling, he tried to grab the edge of the stairs, then the banister, but to no avail. Adam shut his eyes, waiting for the end where he knew he would crash into the door and possibly knock himself out, even kill him if the force was strong enough. He crashed down the steps, crying out in pain once when his head hit the wall and he soon guessed he was near the bottom. He clenched his eyes shit even further, making the blackness in his vision flash with a few colours.

His eyes flew open when, instead of hitting a solid wooden doorframe, he landed on a soft patch of grass instead.

He wanted to get up, but settled for lying on this unfamiliar ground and stared at the open sky. His dark brown hair flicked in front of his similar coloured eyes as he shook his head in disbelief and his brown orbs widened in shock as he realised what he was staring at.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?" he screamed.

There were a massive crowd of students gathering around the drama notice board, all chattering excitedly. The cast list for the school production had been released only minutes before, but the teenagers who had auditioned had already blocked up the school hallway, clustering to read the board. The shocked and disappointed gasps and mutters were heard in the classrooms and by the other students who took no interest. People were shoved out of the way once they had had their fill, as to let the stronger students through to read the list.

"I can't believe it! I'm in!"

"_She_ was cast as the lead? Damn!"

"Oh… she's not there."

A girl with dark brown hair bouncing on her shoulders and tanned features stood at the back of the crowd, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. Maria Rance was sixteen, yet she could have looked younger or older depending on the angle you looked at her. Unlike most girls milling around her, she hardly wore any makeup except for mascara, making her lashes incredibly long.

Patiently, she waited for the crowd to disperse, so when there were only a few left looking at her half-pityingly – not that she noticed their stares – and as they were pretending to read the board, she approached the list anxiously. She was hoping and praying desperately that all of her weeks – almost two months – of preparing, practicing, learning those foreign lyrics had paid off. Her grey eyes flickered up and down as she scanned the list, her face falling and her heartbeat quickening even faster as she realised the truth: her name wasn't on the list.

Feeling a stinging sensation come into her eyes, she turned away, blinking furiously to prevent the tears she knew were coming. Turning away from the direction she should have taken to go to her next class, she strode off in the opposite direction to search for her drama teacher. Quickly navigating the corridors towards the drama studio, she knocked on the door and walked in, approaching her teacher, who smiled to see her as he looked up from the costume he was fixing.

"Miss Rance! What a pleasant-"

"Mr Wilkinson, how come I got no place in the show? I mean, we both know that my audition should have got me something – you said it yourself! Why did you lie to me, then?" she fired at him, standing her ground in the doorway. He sighed and put down the material, standing up to approach her.

"Look, Maria, you know as well as I do that just having you in the production wouldn't really work. Your vocal range and quality is excellent, perhaps even perfect, but the other students can't keep up with it. You don't harmonize well with them – reasons unknown to me and you."

He started to pace and looked at the poster hanging on the wall, the one that the art department had collectively concocted for the production, emblazoned with the words 'CABARET' in big red letters across the middle and the Nazi swastika at the top of the page, almost blending in with the background, perhaps unseen to those just passing by it. He hit the swastika with such force that Maria actually stepped backwards, surprised by his violence.

"There's also the problem of the location of where this is set. This is set in Berlin, in Germany. The thing is, your appearance…" he hesitated, unwilling to seem racist towards the girl who was patiently awaiting his response. "Having a distinctly Spanish girl playing the lead, an _English _dancer, will seem odd in the production and we don't want the audience to be distracted from the musical. We want it to be as realistic as possible-"

Maria, not wanting to hear any more, cut in sharply, voice quavering. "Stop. I understand. Thank you – thank you for the chance for letting me audition anyway."

_Even though it was fruitless, _a snide voice echoed through her head. She shook her head, trying to get rid of the voice for it to come to naught. She managed to choke out a 'see you in class', turned and ran down the school corridors towards the entrance. With a great shove, she threw open the huge double doors of the school entrance, making them crash into the brick wall that surrounded the frame. Running down the steps, jumping two or three in her haste, she fell onto the grass and lay, face up, with her eyes shut, letting her tears fall from the corners of her eyes.

Her body convulsed spasmodically as she let her emotions take over and sobs wrack her body, but refusing to curl up like a pathetic child, as she liked to call people who did such a thing, whether it was real or acted.

_Well, hey, there'll be other productions…and like he said, your voice is good, so you can do lots of other things, screw the productions, _she thought in a failed attempt to cheer herself up. _And at least the grass is soft._

Her eyes opened when she realised the strangeness of her comment. Since she moved from Spain, she grew up in an urban environment, all concrete and tarmac. Grass only grew in the parks twenty minutes away, certainly not in the front expanse of land of her school.

Turning onto her side, she saw another person a few metres away, and judging by what she could see of his expression, he had no idea what was going on with him either.

"Where the hell am I?" she mumbled to herself, gripping the grass that she never really knew.

The cheers blended together into one mass of white noise to the ears of Selena – or Ruby, as she was known on stage – Acacia, but it was almost music to her ears in the same way her fans loved her own music. "Thank you, Birmingham!" she yelled down the microphone, loving the sound of her voice echoing through the arena. "You guys have been amazing, I can't wait to return!"

She was answered by another roar of approval from the audience, so she decided to rouse them even more with another quick burst of song, then skipped off of the stage with a final bow and wink. Her long blonde hair – dyed, along with her name change – tied into pigtails which almost reached her thighs, waved behind her as she moved, the stage lights making them seem lots of different colours.

When Selena returned backstage, she was immediately swarmed by her producer, choreographers, stylists, assistants, everybody she worked with, all chattering with compliments and comments.

"Wow, Ruby, great show tonight!"

"You shone today, babe! Absolutely perfect!"

"I haven't heard the audience scream any louder – best concert on tour, I say, darling!"

"That last note on 'Melancholy'! I don't think anyone else can hit those notes, least of all –" her lead stylist said, but was cut off by Selena's laugh. It was a cruel laugh, but full of happiness.

"Don't say her name, Nic, there is no point, because she's gone now, disappeared off the earth, apparently. But yes, you are right! Thank you everyone!" she gushed, prancing past them like the diva she was known to be. Her bright blue eyes, one of the few things that had been changed, shone under the lights lining the halls towards her dressing room. She threw open her door and flung herself onto the comfortable chair, gazing at her reflection in the mirror, admiring every inch of her face – almost plastered in makeup and glitter.

She noted, with slight disgust, that some of the makeup was running, so she reached for some makeup wipes that always sat on the edge of the shelf. Succeeding in getting two from her position, she started to wipe away the makeup from her face, revealing pale skin underneath that definitely did not sparkle under the lights, unlike when she was wearing the makeup.

Looking at her face in the mirror, she sighed. Without the makeup she felt too much like her old self. The stage was a brilliant escape, an escape from the life Selena had left behind when she walked out on her parents. They hadn't wanted this life for her, but she had wanted it so badly – fame, fortune, connections, fans – that she screamed at them, telling them they were holding her back, that this was her dream and that she'd be better off without them.

So she walked out of the house, suitcase in hand, with her mind set to change her name, appearance, even her personality and make a whole new life for herself. She called the person who recruited her, and they set her up with a car, new, 'worthy of a star' clothes, a place to stay: and so Ruby Acacia came into existence.

Her producers had made sure that she reached the top; so much so that they managed to wipe out so many pop bands and other singers from the charts, that most of those were never heard of again in the rankings. Ruby Acacia was taking over the pop industry and she knew it, so she played to her advantages that were so easily created.

She rose up and up until she was one of the most favoured stars in the world. With it, she erased traces of her old life from peoples' knowledge and from her mind, focussing directly on her career and new life.

Selena realised she had been daydreaming and shook her head violently, to get the stray thoughts from her head. One of the pigtails became loose and the hair band fell to the floor, along with the countless pins that kept it in place. Growling to herself in frustration, she picked up the band and attempted to redo her hair up. She succeeded, but it didn't look as good as it had before. Putting the pins in her hair in another attempt to fix it, she admitted that it looked slightly better than with just the band.

"Nic! Can you come and fix my stupid pigtails!" she screeched, throwing the chair backwards and storming towards the door. "Nic! I said…"

She stopped short when she stepped onto grass. Stupidly, she let go of the door handle and heard the door shut behind her. Turning, she went to go and open the door again and escape the strange place, but the door was no longer there.

"Oh God, where am I?" she shrieked.

The run-down bar in the dirtiest, most dangerous part of London wasn't noticeable at first glance. No one really paid attention to it, mainly because if you walked in there you would be surrounded by drunks, alcoholics and the people that liked to walk around with knives and guns in their pockets. There was also that fact that it blended in too easily with the dark, the lights that used to highlight the name of the bar were broken and the letters were falling off anyway. All in all, it was heading towards a complete shutdown.

Inside, the bar was devoid of occupants save for the barman, a few men on the tables and one woman who was sitting at the bar alone, glasses all around her. She threw another drink down her throat and slammed it onto the bar, glaring at the barman who was wiping a glass at the time.

"Another! And make sure it actually has some kick this time, I don't feel anything yet!" she yelled at the frightened man. He took her glasses into a washing up tray and stared at her pale face with some conviction.

"I think you've had enough, ma'am. Why don't you go home and get some-"

"I said another."

The two had a staring match for at least five minutes before her mean look finally got the better of the man; he squeaked slightly and went to get another drink bottle from the cupboard.

Christie Perriot sighed with satisfaction and slight annoyance. She was twenty-two and her once great life had gone down the drain, leaving her to drown her sorrows away in drink. Her dark brown hair had used to be long, but in a fit of rage with her ex-boyfriend – God knows where he is now – she had sheared most of it off with scissors, leaving only a messy mop of her soft hair left on her head, almost identical to her boyfriend.

That night, she had walked out on him.

The barman returned with her drink, pouring it into a glass. With a mumbled 'thanks' she snatched the glass and downed it in one. The few men in the bar were staring at her out of curiosity now, but she hated people who gave her odd looks, so she spun around in her seat and let her cold green eyes do the work.

One man was actually brave enough to avoid her stare and approach her. He was scrutinizing her closely, seeming to recognise her for who she used to be, and his eyes lit up.

"Oh my, you're that Christie girl, aren't you? Ha, I've missed you on the charts, what happened-"

Christie, angered by this sudden revelation to the people in the bar, lunged out at the man, who stepped back with a look of shock and disgust on his face. "I don't want to hear _anything _about that life, you hear me? I'm down and out here for a reason, you bastard." She glared at the man with one of her cruellest stares, which almost did the trick, but it was enough for him to get fired up too. "Leave me alone before I make you."

The man held his hands up in an act of surrender, but his expression was hard and cold. "Jeez, that's how you're going to treat old fans? No wonder no one can remember you anymore."

With a cry of rage, Christie leapt off the chair and at the man, almost succeeding in landing a punch on his face, but she found herself held back by a pair of strong arms, and she turned her head around to find herself facing the manager. She turned on him instead, needing someone to release her anger on. "Let me go! Let me go! You didn't even let me hit him, at least I have a reason!"

"You've had enough. You should leave. Now." The manager looked at her, unblinking, slightly sorrowful that this state was what the woman had brought herself down to. He, too, was an old fan, but wasn't about to let that become known in this situation.

She wanted to come up with a suitable, almost educated response, but in her furious state she couldn't think of anything other than 'screw you'.

Christie found herself being thrown out of the bar by the manager and the 'old fan' – quite literally. She landed on a soft patch of grass, even in her state she knew at once that grass definitely did not grow anywhere near the bar or the surrounding area around it.

She looked around, then collapsed onto the ground, breathing heavily. "I must be really, really bloody drunk."


	3. Revelations

**II: Revelations**

Adam sat up on the grass to see three others scattered around him– his heart sank when he noticed they were all girls, he'd be alone on this one – then to be tackled back to the ground by the furious, hung-over Christie as she started to thump him on the shoulders, stomach, anywhere she could reach. He managed to avoid her fists near his face for long enough before he kicked her off of him.

"What the _fuck _are you doing here?" she screamed at him. "If I had to be stuck with anyone, it had to be _you_!" Adam glared back at her, angry, but saddening quickly as he saw what his ex-girlfriend had sunk to.

"Nice to see you, Christie, so nice of you to say hello," he answered calmly, voice dripping with sarcasm. Ruby stared at them in shock and disgust before intervening.

"Excuse _me_, but do you know what on Earth we're doing here? I have a career, you know, and a tour to complete!"

Christie spun around on the spot, growling when she spotted the young girl. "YOU!"

Ruby recoiled at the venom in her voice, even stumbling backwards a few steps. "Wha-? I don't even-"

"_You _are the one who ruined me! _You _are the selfish brat who only thinks about herself! _You're the one who walks out on the ones who raised you and tries to help you, but no, nothing's good enough for Little Miss Priss! _I should be knocking some sense into your pretty little head-" Christie spat, stalking forward on every sentence, but having Adam hold her back when she raised her fist, Ruby shrinking away.

"Well, I see that your outfit is even sluttier than before," Ruby muttered. Christie growled again.

"I wasn't wearing this before, but this is comfy enough." Christie examined her outfit in curiosity – a ridiculously short skirt, tight against her thighs in dark green, with a similarly coloured crop top that covered half of her upper body and revealing a _lot _of cleavage, and black boots that reached the edge of her thighs. The poker-face expression she was giving gave no indication of the fact that she was lying. To hide it further, she proceeded to insult Adam's clothing. "And explain why you're dressed up like a classical composer?"

Adam went to retort, but realised he had no argument. He was wearing a dark brown coat with old fashioned fasteners and odd patterns around the edges, with black trousers and shoes.

Ruby was fretting. "My dress! That was so expensive, and now I'm stuck with some boring black strappy dress and heels! What on earth?" She shut her mouth when Christie glared at her again.

"Um, excuse me?"

The three turned to Maria, who was standing behind them, twiddling her fingers nervously, in black short-shorts and a plain white button up shirt, looking rather forlorn about the situation. "Sorry to interrupt, but wouldn't we be better off going to find help?"

Christie turned to the other two. "Either of you know her?" They shook their heads. "Well, looks like you're the odd one out here, hon. I'm Christie, the blonde twit is Ruby and the even more idiotic guy is Adam. I suppose we have to get on now." She ignored the squawks of protest from the other two.

"I'm Maria, and I suppose it's not my place to say, but you guys are acting like a bunch of school kids."

The four eventually decided just to sit down on the grass and talk about nothing in particular. Really, they were just waiting for someone to hopefully come along and help them.

Even then, it didn't take that long for somebody halfway helpful to approach them.

"Finally, we've found you!"

Maria was the first to react to the relieved, feminine voice from behind her. Rapidly approaching them was a young woman with flowing red hair in a white dress and ballet pumps, with a man who must have been slightly older with dark brown hair and glasses, in a suit of sorts. The others started a second later, and Maria was surprised by Christie standing in front of her.

"Lemme guess, you brought us to your world to help save you or something cheesy along those lines," Christie snapped. "We want to go home, if you don't mind."

"Well, Christie, that's exactly why we brought you here," the woman replied smoothly. "Vita Amare, and Erik Luna. This is Carmina, or the world of the Voice, if it may be known."

Ruby burst out laughing. "Right, once you're out of your little fantasy world, then can you take us home?"

Maria slapped her arm, hard. "Shut up."

Everyone stared at her, then shook their heads in surprise and stared at Vita instead. Ruby rubbed the stinging red mark on her arm and pouted.

"Carmina used to be…beautiful. But then the queen died, her daughter, not even the rightful successor, succeeded her, and then everything went downhill. Parts of our time are disappearing rapidly, taking people, animals, homes, the whole world with it. She was supposed to control the timeline, but without the proper guidance, she lost it. Eh… Erik, continue, please."

The man stepped forward, smiling reassuringly. "Adam, Christie, Ruby, Maria," he nodded at each in turn. "I apologise for bringing you here so quickly, without notice, but we couldn't risk losing any more time. You see, we brought you here because of two things: something is missing from your lives, and your singing voice, the latter being more important for us here."

"So time-change? Like being thrust back in time sometimes?" Adam questioned. Erik nodded.

"But the voices are more important. See, this is a power no one in Carmina possesses anymore."

Christie, unable to contain her amusement, roared with laughter. She collapsed to the floor holding her sides, tears rolling down her face. Her other companions glanced at each other, and shrugged.

"So what the heck are we supposed to do with that? Sing this evil ruler to death or the fuck? Adam could do that in under a minute, he can't sing a note!" she shrieked with mirth.

Adam furrowed his brow, hurt. "You didn't say that a few months ago," he mumbled, defeated.

"I just don't believe that some crazy fangirl and fanboy made up a plot this elaborate," Ruby declared. "This is a load of crap, like some bad videogame. I mean, what kind of-"

"Who said it couldn't be real?" Maria snapped. "They don't look crazy, and yes, I suddenly walked out of my school to land in a world full of grass that my school doesn't own! Didn't you walk through your door here? Didn't you?" She focussed her wide eyes on Vita. "Look, what do we have to do? They may not want to help, but I do."

Adam looked on as Ruby became hysterical. "How can you believe this? You're just a child!"

"So are you," Adam cut in quietly.

Everyone became silent, even Christie who was still on the floor, but Erik. He coughed self-consciously. "Please, help us. You _will _get something in return, one, you'll find that missing element I was talking of. I suppose you wouldn't care much for that, but I think the second would convince you further."

His emerald eyes gazed at each of the group in turn, mainly staying on Ruby, who had her arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

"Like I said, the timeline is disappearing. We need it back to rebuild the world, and without the rightful queen – or king, I suppose – it will be wiped from existence completely. Thus –"

"We die with the rest of the world," Christie finished, eyes dim. It seemed that events had sobered her hangover. Adam fidgeted with the sleeves of his coat, avoiding everybody's wavering gazes. Maria sat on the floor, wincing as the shorts cut into her skin, burying her face in her knees. Ruby huffed in annoyance as if someone had thrown an insult at her.

Christie suddenly broke out into a grin. She jumped up, slapped Adam on the back of the head (purely for her own satisfaction), pulled Maria up by the scruff of the neck and turned to their leaders. "Well? What are we waiting for?"

"You're not seriously suggesting-" Ruby started.

"We have nothing better to do!" Maria cut her off, her smile matching Christie's, eyes ablaze with glee. "It sounds kinda fun, providing we don't die!"

_How can she be so optimistic, the both of them? _Adam was kicking himself mentally, but he reluctantly was agreeing with them. Ruby, in the end, gave in from their endless rave.

Vita smiled, but then turned to Erik and spoke in a language none of them understood, but recognised. Latin. Then again, Vita spoke so fast none of them caught a word of it.

She turned to them, smiling. "Thank you, _so _much. We owe you our lives."

"Well, just remember that when we're in some kind of near-death situation," Adam said, surprised by his own ironic wit. He ducked his head, embarrassed. Vita waved him off.

"Well, are we going or not?" Christie asked, suddenly eager to leave, but leaving the plea for alcohol in the back of her mind.

"Are those motorbikes?" Ruby exclaimed suddenly, nodding towards the shadows of the vehicles near the trees. She looked deathly white.

"Aw, is wittle Ruby scared of the motorbikes?" Christie mocked, running past Erik and Vita towards the vehicles. "Don't worry, there's only four, one with a sidecar, so I'll take the school kid and you can ride with Adam. Not too difficult, and I'm sure that he'll take good care of you."

"I was hoping for more practical transport," Ruby muttered, following the group who had taken Christie's path (who, of which, was now sitting on one of the bikes and kick-starting the engine). "This is going to be what kills us first."

Adam laughed, a short, deep sound. "Oh, dear, we're all just so hilarious."

Everyone felt deafened by Christie's constant whooping through the headsets installed in the helmets provided. Maria felt sick from the bumping of the sidecar across the woodland terrain, and was thankful that Christie couldn't go any faster, because overtaking Vita would have been fatal – in her mind.

It was then she felt the sidecar disconnect, and she panicked.

Everyone else was crying out in surprise too, as their motorbikes were distorting as they rode, and Maria felt her sidecar become a fat pony, saddled with reins, which she gripped tightly. She looked around with disdain as the adults had fully-grown horses, and her pony had to trot to keep up.

_Great, now I feel even worse._

"A Time Shift," Vita said dismissively, as if that explained the situation. She turned around to face the group. "We've probably gone back to sometime around the Middle Ages, I suppose, judging from our transport."

"Oh, fuck," Christie groaned. "That's not fair."

Erik suddenly shouted. "Vita, watch it!"

Vita turned back around and stopped, rearing her chestnut mare just before the edge of a huge pit. The rest gathered around her, wondering why she had stopped.

Adam moaned in shock. Ruby screamed. Maria just stared at the grey pit that lay before them, dreading what it may have been.

"W-what is this?" Ruby exclaimed, rounding on Vita. "Trying to lead us to our deaths?"

"No, this is what remains of a whole town that went through a Time Wipe," Vita shot back. Maria buried her head in her hands for the second time in less than an hour.

Christie staggered towards the nearest bushes and threw up.


End file.
